


May it Be An Evening Star

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know where this idea came from, Not a Happy Story, someone seriously needs to take these characters away from me because all I do is hurt them, w.i.p., we're not going to get into how this would seriously mess up canon okay?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Elrond has always been fated to outlive his twin, but perhaps fate had stolen Elros away at a younger age, even before they had left the care of their foster family.





	1. Denial

For the first two days following his brother’s death, Elrond was quiet. He allowed Maglor coddle him and wrap him in blankets to ward off the winter chill, and Maedhros to offer him warm cider, spiked with herbs that made his mind quiet and his body sluggish. Although neither Feanorian was pleased with the idea of drugging their remaining foster son, it was far easier to have him laying peacefully on the hearth, sniffling occasionally, than it was to have him pacing the house and looking through doors and under furniture for his lost twin. They were with him constantly those two days, not allowing themselves any rest, instead doting on him and soothing his occasional cries with soft words. 

Maedhros responded to the death as he always did, by forcing himself through and ignoring all his own needs. It was easier to force his body to keep moving until he collapsed into exhaustion than it was to admit there was a gaping hole in his chest. Instead he spent what little time he was not with Elrond checking on their men, who were more than aware that their lords needed their space, and retreated into their own homes to let the Feanorians lick their wounds in private.

Maglor, too, fell into his usual routine of smothering everyone with attention, fretting over Maedhros and cuddling Elrond, making sure both of them had enough to eat. He played his harp with Elrond's head in his lap, stroking his dark hair between chords and whispering assurances to him. 

Even as used to death and loss as they were, the Feanorians needed those two days without Elrond to put themselves together enough that they could care for him properly. After that, they swallowed their own sadness and put on the facade of being perfectly adjusted and began to wean their foster child off the sedatives. Maedhros kept his eyes on their remaining troops, throwing himself into his duties more than before to distract from his pain, while Maglor followed Elrond about the house, full of gentle words and soft reassurances. Elrond was still in a daze, even after the drugs were long gone from his system, although when asked he acknowledged that he knew his brother was gone, so Maglor and Maedhros told themselves he was safe from his delusions.

The evening of the winter’s first snow Maedhros returned to their small home to find Maglor sitting in front of the fire, stirring a pot of stew. It was odd to see him in such a domesticated state. Maglor had once enjoyed cooking and housework - in Tirion he had had his own small house, with a limited staff which he mostly ran himself - but since they journeyed to Middle Earth he had fallen into his duties as a prince, then a king, then a lord. Elrond – whom he had expected to find at Maglor’s side or curled on the couch, staring at the door, exhausted by a day of wandering in search of Elros – was nowhere in sight, and when Maglor looked up his face went pale. “He said he was going with you.”

Maglor scrambled to his feet, his face tight with terror. “I should never have let him go by himself,” he whispered. “You were only just outside, I never thought he wouldn’t make it to you-“

Maedhros cut him off with a shake of his head. “Worry later,” he said, tossing Maglor his cloak. “Now we must find him.”

The brothers hurried out into the snow, Maedhros clutching a lantern and debating running to rouse their troops. “Not just yet,” Maglor said when questioned on the matter. “I have a feeling I may know where he has gone.”

Maedhros nodded and followed behind him, knowing that Maglor knew far more about the ways of children. Their feet crunched on the freshly fallen snow and Maglor’s small lamp cast unsettling shadows around them. He led the way down a familiar path, and Maedhros’ concern only grew when he remembered the last time they had gone that way. 

> _Elrond was silent as Maglor braided his hair, murmuring soft words of assurance with each tug. His face was lined far more than any child’s had any right to be, and he refused to meet his guardian’s gaze. A single tear made its way down his cheek, and Maglor hushed him, reaching out to wipe it away on the sleeve of his black tunic. “Be strong my little star,” he murmured. “I am right here.”_
> 
> _Elrond sniffled, shaking his head with a small amount of fright. “I want Elros,” he pleaded, looking at Maglor as though hoping his guardian could make the lost boy materialize out of the air._
> 
> _“As do I,” Maglor replied, tweaking the clasp on Elrond’s tunic, one that he had carefully and quickly altered from one that had once belonged to Amras. It was the only dark clothing they could find for him, the only thing suitable for the occasion. “Elrond, if I could trade my life for his I would,” he said, taking his hand and pressing his lips to the boy’s knuckles. “But alas, that is not how our world works.”_
> 
> _He stood, still holding Elrond’s hand, and looked down at him expectantly. “Are we ready?” he asked, and Elrond replied with a small shrug._
> 
> _Maedhros was waiting for them outside, along with the cart that bore Elros’ body. Maglor had insisted upon putting him in a coffin, reminding Maedhros that otherwise Elrond would be able to view his brother’s body – or at least the shape of it – as they laid it in the ground. Maedhros had nodded, and had cut the wood for it himself, only allowing himself to be assisted when absolutely necessary, never having been one to let his disability get in his way._
> 
> _Elrond stared with longing at the cart as they began their solemn procession. Maglor kept ahold of his hand as they moved, and Elrond seemed grateful for the reassuring touch._
> 
> _They reached the small clearing where Maglor had once taken the boys to play, where now there was a large hole already dug. Once again Maedhros had insisted upon doing it himself, despite Maglor’s pleas to allow someone else to do it. He needed him time away to silence his thoughts, he had never allowed himself to grieve in front of others, least of all his brother._
> 
> _Maglor knelt beside Elrond as Maedhros and his assistant lowered the casket from the cart and into the hole. “Would you like to say anything?” Maglor asked gently, stroking the child’s hand._
> 
> _Elrond only shook his head. “Would you like if I sang?” At that Elrond gave a quick and pitiful nod, Maglor pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then lifted up his voice. “Harthon ngíl aduial síla dad na chen.” As Maglor finished the first verse Elrond’s face puckered and the tears that he had been fighting the whole evening began to fall. Maglor pulled him into his chest, steeling himself and continuing, “Harthon ir dhúath dhannar, gûr chîn natha thenin.” Maedhros had finished lowering the casket into the grave, and was now kneeling beside the hole in silence, their men standing respectfully around them. All the soldiers had adored the twins, losing Elros seemed to hit them harder than the lost of any of their comrades, perhaps ecause he was so young and innocent. “Padach ven ereb, ae hae nach o mbâr chîn! Dúath nar sí.” Maglor was fighting tears as he moved into the last verse, his hands tightening on Elrond’s shoulders. “Garo vronwe ar istathach bâd chîn. Dúath am ven. Si nach i estel vîn.” It had been his gift to bring others to tears with his voice, but very seldom did he himself weep when he sang. But at that moment, kneeling beside the grave of his foster son, Maglor lowered his head onto Elrond’s and wept._

It was that same path that they followed the day Elrond was lost, Maglor stopped at the edge of the clearing and swallowed painfully, preparing himself for the possibility that he had misjudged Elrond’s actions. But as they stepped into the clearing it was immediately clear he had been right.

The youth was sitting in the middle of the clearing, beside the disturbed dirt of his brother’s grave, his shoulders hunched. Maglor passed his light to his brother and stepped closer to Elrond, surveying the scene before him with growing horror. Elrond was a shaking, weeping mess, his clothes, face, and hands coated in mud, around him were piles of the same. Immediately in front of him was the fruits of his labor: a hole reaching into the ground to reveal the lid of Elros – thankfully still closed – casket.

Maglor cleared his throat to catch his attention before he moved forward and knelt beside Elrond, resting one hand on his back gingerly, as though afraid he might break him. “Elrond,” he asked quietly. “What are you doing my little star?” 

Elrond’s lip trembled as he stared into the open grave. “It’s cold,” he whispered, turning to look at Maglor through tear streaked lashes. 

“I know,” Maglor replied, draping his cloak around Elrond to share his own body heat. “Let us go back inside and I will draw you a warm bath.” A warm bath would be a rare treat, during the warmer months they bathed outside, but in cooler times they typically did their washing up with a cloth and bowl of water. Drawing a bath - and particularly heating one - was a tedious process.

But even that was nothing to Elrond who looked to Maedhros who offered him a reassuring smile, then back to Maglor, then finally his eyes rested on his twin’s grave. “I can’t leave him." His voice was empty, cracking miserably. 

With a sinking heart Maglor glanced at Maedhros and his brother’s face told him that he had not misheard. “Elrond he is gone," he cooed, pulling the youth more tightly against himself and beginning to stroke his dark tresses.

“He’s cold,” Elrond whispered, ripping himself from Maglor's touch and reaching back for the casket, almost falling into the shallow hole himself. “And lonely. I- I can’t leave him, Kana.” Maglor caught him and pulled him back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tried not to remember what it had been like to care for Ambarussa after the death of his twin. He could only hope that, being so young, Elrond's life would not be destroyed as Ambarussa's had been.

Maedhros approached to sit on the other side of Elrond, dropping the lantern onto the ground in front of them. “Elrond,” he said quietly. “I am going to tell you something that my brother is far too kind to say: your brother is gone forever. He is dead, his body is broken beyond repair, and you shall not see him again in this life.” A soft sob escaped Elrond’s lips, he tried to choke out an argument, but Maedhros spoke over him, “Go inside with Kana. Let him draw you a bath and care for you, I will fill the grave and then join you for supper.”

Elrond went limp and Maglor lifted him into his lap, guiding Elrond’s arms around his neck so that he could stand with the boy in his arms. Maglor cast one last sad look at his brother before leaving with Elrond, rocking the boy in his arms as they walked in silence back to their home, passing into the warmth.

“He truly is gone,” Elrond said softly, after Maglor had set him on the floor of the bathing chambers and began to heat the water for his bath.

Maglor paused in his work to give him a sad look. “I’m afraid so, Elrond.”

The half-elf whimpered and looked down, studying his feet as Maglor finished heating the bathwater. He barely reacted as Maglor helped him to undress, wiping away as much of the dirt as he could with a washcloth, rubbing warmth his fingers and toes back into his fingers and toes. Carefully he helped Elrond into the bathwater, quietly asking if the temperature was right. Elrond nodded and was rewarded with a smile. No sooner had Maglor tipped his head over the side of the tub and began to brush out his dark hair did Maedhros step into the chamber, three cups of warm apple cider balanced precariously on a plate. He pulled Maglor from Elrond’s head and took the comb, working it carefully though the dark tangles, something he had easily learned to do one handed. Maglor offered Elrond one of the glasses of cider, and he took it with a soft thank you.

His hands, now more free of dirt and grime, were revealed to be in horrid shape. The fingernails were all but destroyed, broken, jagged, and uneven, some even to the point of bleeding, and there were blisters on his palms as though he had scrambled at the lid of the coffin. Setting aside his own drink Maglor took one of Elrond’s hands and began carefully cleaning and evening the nails, kissing each finger as he finished it, a silly rhyme from their childhood coming to his lips, “This little piggy went to the market.”

“Kana!” Elrond burst out, almost laughing as Maglor continued the absurd game. “I am not a child.”

“For as long as Maitimo calls me his little Kana, I shall continue to call you my little Elrond,” he replied, tweaking Elrond’s nose and blowing playfully on his face.

Maedhros hit a snag in Elrond’s hair, jerking his head and startling him. He pulled his hands back under the water, away from Maglor, and the magic of the moment was broken. They returned to silence, although it might have been slightly less strained than the last. Maglor managed to steal his hands once more, checking that he had removed as many of the splinters as he could, before washing the wounds once more. 

Once Elrond was sufficiently clean, and before the water could begin to cool, Maglor helped him out of the tub and dried him, helping him to bundle into thick clothes to ward off the chill. The very last thing they needed was for Elrond to sicken, Maglor doubted his soul – twisted and dark as it was – could survive such a loss.

Maglor herded them both back into the main room, where the stew was still waiting for them, dishing out three bowls. They sat together on the floor in front of the fire, Elrond numbly sitting in Maglor’s lap, leaned back against the minstrel’s chest.

Maglor ate his own stew as quickly as he could, then set his bowl aside and moved to help Elrond who had hardly touched any of his own food. When the spoon was brought to his mouth, Elrond turned his head away, looking at the far wall. “Please,” Maglor murmured, “at least have some of the broth.” The youth consented to that, letting Maglor tip warm liquid down his throat, but continuing to refuse anything solid. Maedhros watched them in silence, trying not to think too hard on the fact that he had just buried Elros a second time, after burying four brothers and losing one to the sea. It was easier instead to watch Maglor fighting with the twin they had left, trying to ease as much nutrition into him as possible.

“Are you full, Elrond?” the elder Feanorian asked, and the child nodded in reply, although it was almost certainly a lie. “Then let us retire to bed, we all need rest.”

“Let me bring blankets and we can stay here,” Maglor urged, pulling Elrond more closely to his chest. “It is too cold in our rooms.” In truth he simply didn’t want to be alone – didn’t think any of them ought to be alone – and was hiding behind the weather as an excuse. Thankfully no one called him on it, and Maedhros simply told him to stay with Elrond and he would bring them blankets and furs.

He spread a large fur on the ground near the hearth – a treasured possession, a bear Celegorm had brought down, its pelt large enough for several grown elves to lay under or on – and they curled on top of it, bringing the thick woolen blankets over themselves to seal in the heat. Elrond slept between the brothers, still shivering slightly, even after Maglor lulled him off to sleep.

Maedhros waited until he was certain Maglor too had fallen off to sleep, the musician’s breathing evening out, before he allowed himself to pull both of them closer and join them in their rest.


	2. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first serious attempt at writing an elven philosophical discussion.

Elrond took to following Maedhros around their settlement, as though he didn’t want to remain in the house he had once shared with his twin. The elder Feanorian didn’t mind, so long as Elrond stayed within sight and kept himself out of trouble. Their soldiers – ever fond of children, as all the Eldar were – would attempt to entice him into games and mischief, but more often than not, Elrond would just shake his head, grab onto Maedhros’ arm, and hide his face in his side.

The few times that he was bribed into playing, or simply grabbed and swung around, as he had once loved, he seemed to forget himself, laughing and shrieking, a smile breaking through his hard expression. But it never lasted long, Elrond would invariably come to his senses, and flee back to Maedhros, hiding himself in his guardian’s robes, and glaring at those who had attempted to cheer him.

After one such incident, Maedhros knelt in the snow, catching Elrond’s gloved hand in his own. “Can you say thank you?” he asked softly. Elrond shook his head, scowling furiously. “They merely want to cheer you,” Maedhros soothed, but still his charge protested wordlessly. “Any why not?”

His reply caught them all off guard. “I hate them.”

“You…. Hate…. Them,” Maedhros repeated slowly, certain that he must be misunderstanding Elrond’s words. “Why?”

“They shouldn’t have let this happen,” Elrond accused, his eyes darting over to look at the soldiers he had once adored with fear and contempt.

Maedhros caught his chin gently, turning it toward himself so that they could look one another in the eyes. “Elrond,” he soothed, “this wasn’t their fault.”

“Yes it was.” He stuck his jaw out stubbornly, glaring at Maedhros. “They shouldn’t have let the Uruks come so close to our camp.”

Knowing that many of his men still harbored guilt over the child’s death, Maedhros decided that out in the open was not the time nor place to have the conversation they were edging toward, so he gently took Elrond’s hand and murmured, “Come with me.”

Elrond followed him obediently, his eyes focused on the ground. Once they were safely out of both sight and earshot of the troops, Maedhros sat on a fallen log and pulled Elrond into his lap, wrapping his cloak around the both of them. “Elrond,” he said gently, “no one here wanted your brother’s death, that I promise you.”

Elrond tried to push him back, giving a quiet whine and trying to free himself from his guardian’s grasp. “They shouldn’t have let the orcs come so close!” he said angrily, eyes flashing.

Maedhros caught his flailing hands, holding his wrists together. “I know that is how you feel, and it is understandable, but what happened was an accident.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Elrond’s head. “If I had known the orcs were that close, I would have sent the two of you inside with Kana.”

Elrond swallowed and looked away, his silver eyes brimming with tears. Maedhros hummed softly, and pulled him against his chest. “There’s no shame in tears,” he said, running his fingers through his ward’s hair carefully.

“I don’t want to cry!” he screamed, shoving Maedhros away and finally managing to break free of him, slipping off his lap to stand in front of him. “I’m tired of crying!”

Maedhros offered him a sympathetic look. “What would help you then?” he asked calmly.

“I- I just-“ Elrond looked down at his own trembling hands, squeezing his eyes shut to fight against his tears. “Kana won’t stop telling me I can cry all I want, but that’s not what I need.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands, and Maedhros thought he saw a fleck of blood. “I wanted to punch him.”

“Ah. So that explains the sudden interest in me, you’re afraid of hurting Kana.”

“He chased us,” Elrond whispered, waving his arms about helplessly. “He shouldn’t have- he should- it wasn’t-“

“Shhhh.” Maedhros slid to the ground, so he was crouched below Elrond’s eyelevel, hoping to register as less of a threat. “I know how you feel,” he said slowly. “You need someone to blame, that’s normal.”

“It’s his fault! He should have saved him!”

“Believe me when I say, Kana has barely been able to live with himself over what happened.” Maedhros patted his lap, inviting Elrond to return at any time. “But he knew your brother was lost, and that he had to keep the both of you quiet until I returned if he was going to be able to save you.”

Elrond dropped to the ground, tantalizingly out of reach. “I wish he had died instead.”

Maedhros winced, remembering the night of Elros’ death, how Maglor had crawled into his brother’s bed as though he himself was no more than an elfling, and sobbed himself to sleep as Elrond drifted off in a drug induced haze. “Believe me, little one, he wishes the same.”

For a moment they both sat in silence, Elrond continuing to refuse to meet his foster father’s eyes. Finally Elrond asked, “Why couldn’t I have died instead?”

Maedhros shrugged. “I ask myself the same question every time I lose another brother,” he said softly, watching Elrond’s face as the youth suddenly seemed to remember that Maedhros had experienced the same thing he had. “It never becomes easier.”

“Then what’s the point?” Elrond asked, finally turning to stare at Maedhros. “If people keep leaving, when do you just decide to go with them?”

Maedhros had no doubt Maglor would be better suited for such a conversation, he was far better at handling such things, he had a way with words that Maedhros never truly grasped. But Maglor wasn’t there, and Elrond looked so heartbroken, the question coming from the depths of his heart. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and Elrond nodded solemnly. “But Elrond, please, sometimes there is no one to blame, least of all yourself or Kana.”

“But-“

“No,” he interrupted sternly. “Elrond what happened was the fault only of the orcs that killed your brother, or the monster that created them.”

“Then why was he allowed to make them?”

An excellent question, one that Maedhros had wondered many times throughout his life. “I wish I could tell you,” he said, shrugging openly. “We are given free will, it seems that even when that free will is to corrupt none shall stop it.” Even with his own bitterness toward the Valar and their creator, Maedhros would not allow Illuvatar to be spoken of so callously, particularly not by Elrond, who still had a chance of not being doomed.

They sat in silence for several more minutes, both lost to their own thoughts of those they had lost. Elrond finally moved closer, burrowing himself into Maedhros’ warm cloak, jostling him back to reality and reminding him that the youth was not wholly elven, and that the slight chill Maedhros felt must be several times worse to him. Maedhros scooped him up, wrapping his cloak around him and saying, “I feel like retiring early today. Perhaps I can continue your chess lessons?”

Elrond leaned into him, shivering. “Maybe,” he murmured. “Can – can we-“

“Not involve Kana?” Maedhros guessed, and Elrond nodded. “I can find a way to run him off.”

“Thank you.” Elrond whispered, tucking himself into Maedhros’ chest. They slowly made their way back to their home, Maedhros pushing the door open with his shoulder so he didn’t have to set Elrond down on the ground.

Maglor rushed over the moment they returned, seeming to know that something had happened, either because one of the guards had told him, or simply because he had a gift for reading emotions. But Maedhros easily sent him away, telling him to get rest for himself and then giving him a pleading look that Elrond couldn’t see, which communicated clearly the reason behind his intentions.

Maglor nodded his agreement and vanished up the stairs, no doubt to occupy himself with his music until dinner. Maedhros and Elrond curled in front of the hearth, pushing the crystal chess pieces – a creation of Feanor, one of the few things remaining that they had brought over from Valinor – back and forth. Elrond still lacked any skill at the game, and most of his moves were not only foolish, but absolutely illegal. After one of his pawns sidestepped Maedhros’ knight to take a castle (which was actually Elrond’s own castle), the Feanorian finally laughed and suggested that he needed sleep, which Elrond happily agreed to.

Once Elrond was tucked into his nest in the corner – he claimed it was because of the cold that he often refused to sleep in his own room, but Maedhros and Maglor had long since realized it was because he couldn’t stand the emptiness and reminders of his twin – Maedhros crept upstairs to fetch his own brother, who was curled under several blankets with a book.

“Elrond’s asleep.”

Maglor looked startled. “Timo, he hasn’t eaten.” The minstrel hurried to his feet, clearly planning to wake Elrond and make sure he didn’t go to bed hungry.

“Kana wait.” Maedhros grabbed his brother’s arm before he could pass him. “He needs sleep, please, trust me.”

Maglor stared at him for a moment, looking as though he was going to object, but thankfully he merely nodded and headed down the stairs, slowly this time. “Then we might as well eat something ourselves.”

He checked on Elrond when they reached the main room, but he did not wake him, merely made sure that he was wrapped in enough blankets to ward off the winter chill and then dropped himself beside the fire and allowed Maedhros to hand him a plate of food which he picked at half-heartedly.

“Elrond blames himself.” Maglor didn’t seem surprised, nodding slowly as he picked at his meal. Maedhros waited a moment longer before adding, “and you.”

That didn’t surprise him either, and he slowly inhaled, taking a deep breath and glancing in the direction of the sleeping child. “It is like you said,” Maglor said stiffly. “We are all to blame.” It was clear that he still held himself mostly responsible, but Maedhros took what little give Maglor offered with a sad smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has been asking for details about Elros' death: hold onto your hearts and wait until the next chapter because it's a doozy.
> 
> Also: Elrond absolutely has that chess set in Rivendell, and when he sails he takes it with him, and he meets Nerdanel and they play together. I should drabble this.


	3. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bargain. [bahr-guh] Noun.
> 
> An agreement between parties settling what each shall give and take or perform and receive in a transaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!! 
> 
> Sorry for the long stretches between updates. Ugh. Anyway, this chapter was hard to write - bargaining is probably the least logical step in grief - and so it's less heavy on current events and more flashback. 
> 
> I lovingly dedicate this to anyone who is still reading my fics.

“Elrond?” Maglor shifted leaned in the doorway of the boy's room, watching him with worried eyes. "You missed breakfast." Of course, Maglor had already prepared a tray - it was in his hands, ladened with whatever he thought Elrond might eat - but he was still permitted to worry about him.

"I'm fine." Elrond was staring out his window, knees drawn tightly to his chest.

Maglor set the tray beside him, grabbing a thick fur off his bed and draping it over his too small shoulders. "Of course, but you would be even more fine if you would eat."

Elrond glanced at the rather meager offering - bread, dried meats, and some sort of preserve Maglor hadn't been brave enough to inquire about the origin of - and shook his head. "No thank you." He looked back out the window, shivering in spite of the warm furs. "I should have listened."

Something told Maglor he wasn't talking about the call to breakfast he had ignored, and he frowned, raising an eyebrow and staring long and hard at Elrond. "Listened when?"

"When you told us to come inside."

Oh. Oh. Maglor's stomach tightened. “Be that as it may, it doesn’t change anything.” Elrond scowled, opening his mouth to argue, and Maglor continued on, interrupting him. “You could have listened to me, I could have forced you, I could have never allowed you outside, Nelyo could have seen the Orcs coming, the guards could have seen them sooner…..” He allowed his voice to fade. “Don’t you see, Elrond? We cannot change what has already happened, we cannot trade or bargain your brother’s return.”

Elrond scowled, kicking at the wall beneath the window. “But if I had-”

“No.” Maglor shook his head sharply. “Elrond, there is nothing that you could have done differently. You didn’t know better.” The youth nodded, glancing down at the food Maglor had set beside him, and reaching for it slowly. Maglor resisted the urge to encourage him to eat - in his experience, that lead to the opposite of what he wanted about as often as it got him what he intended - and he bit the inside of his lip as Elrond took a hesitant bite of dried pork. 

"Thank you," the Peredhel murmured softly, not meeting Maglor's eyes. 

"You're welcome anytime."

> _Maglor chased after the twins, laughing happily as they raced ahead of him. “Boys! Come back! Tis time for bed!” It was clear to all who saw them that getting the boys into bed was the least of Maglor’s concerns, too distracted by the game._
> 
> _“Never,” Elros shouted, scrambling over his brother to boost himself into the lower branches of a tree._
> 
> _“Watch your footing!” Maedhros shouted, still standing beside one of the houses, attempting to help figure out how to reset the hinges, in order to make it habitable for one of their followers. The abandoned settlement had enough houses for all of them, but so far they had only gotten a few in working condition, and most of their followers were still living in shared quarters. Maedhros and Maglor would have shared their home with their men, but they had all come to an agreement that it was best for the twins if they were not constantly tripping over people, and could escape the others on occasion._
> 
> _Having caught up to Elrond, Maglor wrapped his arms around him, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. “I’ve got you!” he shouted triumphantly._
> 
> _“Brother, help me!” Elrond called, giggling and pretending to struggle out of Maglor’s arms. Maglor tossed him over his shoulder easily, turning back toward Maedhros and tossing him a carefree smile, clearly in his element._
> 
> _That was when Elros screamed._
> 
> _He tumbled out of the tree he was in as Maglor turned sharply, at first thinking he had merely lost his footing, until an arrow shot past them and embedded itself in the door frame beside Maedhros._
> 
> _Maglor dropped Elrond to the ground and shoved him toward the house. “Get inside, now!” he ordered, immediately looking far older than he had only moments before._
> 
> _“Elros!” Elrond screamed, acting as though he was going to run back toward his twin._
> 
> _Maglor grabbed his wrist with uncharacteristic roughness and shoved him toward Maedhros, who already had grabbed for his sword. “Get inside NOW!”_
> 
> _Elrond ran to Maedhros, who shoved him into the house, before slamming the door shut, not caring if it destroyed the hinges they had just installed._
> 
> _Maglor reached Elros and pulled the child into his arms, cooing to him softly as he saw the arrow sticking out of his tunic. “I’m right here,” he murmured, lifting him from the ground as Maedhros shouted for him to get inside. Another arrow narrowly missed him, and he fled with his precious bundle toward the house, brushing past Maedhros and opening the door with his shoulder._
> 
> _“Elrond shut the door and give me your tunic,” he said, laying Elros out on the floor and pulling a knife from his belt. Elrond did as he was told and hurried to his family, hands shaking as he removed his shirt. Maglor recklessly cut through Elros’ tunic, pushing the fabric out of his way in an attempt to reach the wound. “Hold his head in your lap and take his hands,” Maglor instructed. “I need you to keep him calm. Can you do that for me?”_
> 
> _Elrond whimpered and nodded, crawling to cradle his twin’s head. Maglor was fighting to keep a strong face, his worry increasing the more of Elros’ wounds he saw. “Elros?” Elrond whispered._
> 
> _His twin flashed him a smile, reaching up to gently stroke Elrond’s cheek before his hand fell weakly to his side. “Shhh, don’t move,” Maglor said, “this is going to hurt.” Elrond tightened his grip on his twin moments before Maglor pulled the arrow from his stomach. Elros’ scream barely registered over the sounds of fighting coming from outside the house._
> 
> _“I feel funny,” Elros said, his eyes unfocusing._
> 
> _Maglor sniffed the tip of the arrow and felt his blood run cold. “You’ve hit your head is all,” he lied, setting the arrow aside and leaning to press a kiss to Elros’ forehead. “Alright? Just stay with me.” He knew the boy’s chances of survival were poor, even a grown elf would have sickened from that much poison, but as small as Elros was – and given his mortal blood – Maglor doubted he would make it long enough to get the supplies they would need to even offer him a fighting chance. Instead he wrapped him in Elrond’s tunic, bandaging the wound so it wouldn’t bleed anymore, and then pulled both children against his chest._
> 
> _Outside the clanging of swords had died down, it sounded as though Maedhros and his men were chasing the orcs into the woods, and Maglor knew he needed to keep the twins quiet in case there were any orcs still prowling that Maedhros hadn’t gotten to yet. “Nelyo will be back soon,” he whispered, pressing his nose into Elros’ head, “and then we can all go home and get Elros tucked into bed.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we all survive that? The good news is, I have about half of the next chapter already written.
> 
> On a more (or less?) cheerful note, has anyone seen Guardians of the Galaxy because I'm currently reading a lot of Peter Quill and Yondu fics because apparently, I have a thing for "people who should not be trusted with children raising children that they kidnapped / stole." It's a very specific genre of parenting. Maedhros is definately more Yondu, does that make Maglor Kraglin?
> 
> At least Maglor and Maedhros never threatened to eat the twins, although that is a crack fic just waiting to happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Maglor's poem is a version of "May it Be" from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. It was translated into Sindarin by the lovely folks [here](http://www.tyler.net/taramiluiel/may_it_be.htm).


End file.
